He flung his bag down in the sagebrush and sat on it, waiting until the girl came back. Presently there was a series of jubilant toots from the engine of the first train as a signal of the successful reopening of traffic; then the east-bound trains began slowly to move one by one down into the gully over the temporary track. When the last train had crept by him Brainard rose and sauntered in the direction of the girl. She was still sitting motionless on her pony, absorbed in the spectacle of all these moving trains,—a peculiarly lonely little figure, there in the gathering dusk of the desert, watching as it were the procession of civilization pass by her. . . . After the eastbound trains had got away and were steaming off towards the horizon, the west-bound trains began to file across the break, having picked up the wrecking crew and their equipment. The girl did not move. Evidently in her life this was a rare treat, and she did not mean to lose any part of it. So Brainard waited until the red rear lamps of the last train shone out by the water tank, and then as the girl slowly turned her pony back he rose from the ground and hailed her. “Hello!” The pony shied at Brainard, but the girl easily reined it in. She did not seem much discomposed by the sight of him. “Lost your train, stranger?” she observed with admirable equanimity. “There won’t be no more along ’fore to-morrow morning, I reckon,” she added. “I don’t believe I want a train,” he replied. “Goin’ to Mexico on foot with that trunk?” she asked. He detected a mirthful note in her voice. Evidently she took neither him nor his pretended mining business with great seriousness. “That’s just what I’m going to try to do!” “Well, you won’t get there to-night, I reckon.” “I suppose not. Can you tell me some place where I could spend the night?” “There’s the water tank,” she suggested, with a little laugh. “Isn’t there somebody where you come from?” The girl shook her head quite positively. “There must be some one in this God-forsaken country who would take a stranger in! I don’t care about spending the night out here.” The girl laughed as if it were all a great joke. “There won’t be nobody to hurt you, stranger.” “Thanks!” She started on her road. Brainard thought he was in for a night in the open and cursed his folly in jumping off into the desert. But the girl pulled up after a few steps, and he could hear her gay chuckle as she called out: “You sure did want to stay in Arizona bad—you lost six trains!” “I meant to!” “That mining business must be very important.” “Something else is,” he said boldly. “Was it very bad, what made you want to get to Mexico—a killing?” “Not as bad as that.” “What was it?” “You wouldn’t understand, I am afraid.” “You might try tellin’ of me, all the same.” “It isn’t anything bad.” “They all say that,” she suggested mockingly. “I’m merely trying to carry out some one’s orders.”